


Icolation

by Anonymous



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Comfort Character, Cutting, Depression, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Please don't read if this is triggering, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Seriously put yourself first babes, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26131861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Another Iceland self-harm vent fic.this used to be under anon but i realize i don't seem as accessible when under it.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26
Collections: Anonymous





	Icolation

The isolation was getting to be too much to endure.

Iceland never wanted to admit he was lonely. It would be far too embarrassing and he was too old to depend on the company of others anyway, and it would make the other Nords just a  _ little _ too happy that baby brother Ice wanted to spend more time at their homes.

No, he could never admit it. He needed to adjust to life on his own now. He’d spent the majority of his life asking for things to be this way. He would seem ungrateful to turn back on his words now. An ungrateful brat using his family for his ever-changing mood swings. How pathetic.

So he spent every day as the one before. Thoughts racing, turning existential, debating his own worth and purpose on this planet. All on his own. If he were really needed he wouldn’t even have to ask for company anyway. Nobody cared about him. Nobody loved him.

It hurt. It hurt how much his intrusive thoughts made sense. He was beginning to spiral now, his mind running out of fresh ways to keep himself stimulated, the same words echoing over and over in his head like a song he just couldn’t forget. 

“You’d be better off dead.”

He quickly jerked to his side, laying stripped and vulnerable in his bed, sweat prickling his face despite the cold air around him. The thoughts weren’t going away. And he had no place to go either. But he needed to get up. He needed to move. He needed to feel alive. 

He escaped the only way he knew how. Locating a small dagger in the chest beneath his bed, Iceland sat up and inspected it’s blade carefully. It was given to him by Denmark when he was younger, but he never fought much and had no need for it. He just kept it in well enough condition to honor the simple gift, dumb as it felt. The blade was sharp and reflective, good as new, and it would only make contact with blood as Iceland carefully dragged it across his pale wrist.

The first cut made him wince, letting out a sharp breath as his wound began to cry and sting. The second time went by more smoothly, though he began with much more hesitation than before. By the twelfth time it almost felt like nothing. He felt more grounded. He felt like he had a sense of control. He was playing with his own mortality, but even so he’d never have to really suffer for the consequences. That last part conflicted him.

He rinsed the dagger in his kitchen sink, not bothering to turn on the lights and see the damage he’d caused. He just wanted to feel the results later. The blood glided down his wrist quickly as he patiently took his time wiping the dagger with a rag. Above all else, he still wanted to honor Denmark’s gift to him. Lord knows it was hard to keep up with all of their medieval artifacts, it was selfish he used it so carelessly. 

Finally he rested down the blade and let the cool water run over his arm, for a moment only taking in the sensation rather than tending to his wounds. The feeling of constant pressure was so stimulating… It was a reminder he hadn’t had the strength to shower in a while. He should probably take care of that after this… Useless. He lightly scrubbed his wrist with the rag, letting his mind wander due to the monotony of the task.

It’s over now. There was nothing more to say of it. He got his adrenaline. He didn’t feel much better, but he felt he could carry out his day. It was still afternoon. He had calls he needed to make. Chores to complete. He was already up, he might as well contribute to his society. Maybe he’d even remember to eat later. 

This is what a good day looked like to Iceland.

-

It was hard to wear a mask around his brothers. They’d pester and prod and play with him and he just had to pretend like it didn’t make his blood boil, that he was just being defensive, that he was  _ okay. _

“What’s the matter, Ice? You’re being distant today. You’re not even scolding me for touching Mr.Puffin,” Denmark patted his bird, giving an expression of triumph over this small victory. “It’s almost not as fun without you getting all pissy.”

They’d all come to visit Iceland as an after-meeting get-together. He was just supposed to get their gathering over with and go home alone. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. It began with Denmark begging to see Iceland’s house, “It’s been so loooong and we miss our little buddy,” and of course Norway was getting weird about it and Fin was hopping on the persistent train. He was trapped.   


  
He didn’t even have to ask.

“You’re not doing any harm I guess. Just put him down if he begins to bite. And he’ll pick at calluses so don’t be careless.” Iceland gave a protestant glance to his phone as his friends made themselves comfortable. He’d told them in advance he didn’t want to be a host, but yet he still felt bad for not putting in more effort. He just couldn’t. 

Honestly Mr.Puffin benefited from being around the others for a little while. They were a lot more energetic to play with and they’d actually let him perch on their arms without jerking in pain. Mr.Puffin deserved a better, more caring owner. Suddenly Iceland didn’t want the others around him anymore, allowing him to neglect his pet further. 

“A-Actually, could I see him please,” and Iceland got up to embrace the bird before anyone could comprehend the change in attitude. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand him, honestly…” Finland drew from the stack of playing cards he was entertaining with Sweden and Norway. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us Ice? It’s not the same without you.”

“It’s really fine.” He let Mr.Puffin nibble his hands playfully, aiming toward the callus of his palm. 

Norway gave his brother an interested cock of the brow and rested his cards on the table, choosing to instead join him on the couch. He brushed Iceland’s white hairs back delicately, staring to his face which was so desperately avoided. 

“You need a haircut, brother. Finland should help you with that tonight. And we can watch a movie together.”

“Stop playing with my hair, I’m not a dog.” His face grew visibly hot to Norway’s doting.

“You have a nice kitchen, it’s a shame you don’t let us  _ good cooks _ do anything in there either. We should have dinner too.”

“Nngh…  _ Or, _ you could go home.”

Norway rested his hand to his lap and continued to stare at Iceland’s side flatly.

“If you wanted us to go you would’ve made it a lot more clear at the meeting. It’s bad to spend as much time alone as you do. It’s a shame you lock yourself in like this.”

Iceland huffed, but any words he wanted to say wouldn’t leave his lips. Whether he liked it or not, Norway was right. It was frustrating and it made him angry. He shrunk and leaned into Nor’s side, letting himself get embraced by a hug. 

He needed physical contact more than he’d realized. 

“Aw, Ice, if you really want us to visit more you should’ve just asked!” Denmark walked behind the two on the couch and aimed a noogie at Iceland that was quickly launched into his own face thanks to Nor’s protection. 

“Augh!!!... Point taken, Norge, point taken. I’m gonna start on that dinner if you’re too busy bein’ clingy.”

Norway rolled his eyes to his partner and resumed stroking Iceland’s hair, murmuring about the dessert they could have tonight and the movies they could watch together no-fuss. 

Finland glanced longingly at the scene and eventually placed down his own cards. “We can continue this later, I guess.”

“M’gonna help Dan out, think it'll be a while.”

\--

Iceland didn’t think he’d face potential confrontation so soon. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind wearing a sweater while I do this? Seems kinda… I don’t know… Impractical? I know you want some kind of coverage, but-”

“It’s cold. Could you just start, please?” It was hot enough being stuck in long sleeves all day, the anxiety from all this grilling wasn’t doing any favors.

Finland gave a reluctant shrug and got to work on Ice’s hair, combing and spraying through it in small clumps with the occasional tug. It wasn’t as fluid as it usually was, but Fin kept that bit of detail to himself. Iceland was unpredictable it seemed when it came to what bothered him, so in moments like this it felt safer to say nothing at all. 

“I know, my hair is a mess. I just… haven’t had much time to take care of it.”

Finland blushed, embarrassed he was thinking about it at all. “You’re fine, it’s no problem!” 

The bathroom grew quiet once more as Fin began to cut away at the strands, leaving Iceland to curse at himself for being so careless and making everything awkward. 

The two were done rather quickly; Fin was efficient if nothing else. Iceland excused himself to shower off the excess and change into pajamas for the evening...which turned out to be a bit of a mistake, somehow. 

“Heh, cute pajamas Icey! Say, why don’t we spend the night as well? It’ll be like a little sleepover!” Denmark greeted him below the stairwell. 

“No. No. I’m shutting that down right now, no.” He crossed past the Dane who suddenly lit up despite his rejection. 

“Oh, right, dinner’s ready! I made stegt flæsk, your favorite~”

Iceland scoffed. “You mean  _ your _ favorite?... Anyway I still don’t see why you bothered.”

He let out a laugh which Ice couldn’t help but take personally. “When will ya loosen up and just  _ enjoy _ something with us? C’mon, we saved you a plate.”

The others were all gathered in the living room finding a movie still (something Iceland wouldn’t find too childish but also something Norway would feel comfortable having him watch), besides Sweden, who was already at work cleaning the dishes from cooking. Upon arrival Sweden reached over the counter and handed Iceland his food, a maneuver so swift it was almost impressive. How did that guy have it all together so well…?

His thanks was quickly interrupted by Norway, calling out “Are you sure you don’t want to watch Frozen, lillebror?” His face was glazed over in the most careless way, which usually meant he was being spacey again. Finland was beside him, wrapped in blankets and clicking through the selections on the screen with great interest. The sight was so obnoxious, how could they seriously be this joyful all the time?

“...Thanks Sve, and for the last time, no. I don’t do princess movies.” He placed himself back into his usual tight corner of the couch whilst hovering his plate over himself. 

“Ahh, y’now I used to dress you up when you were younger in these really elegant gowns. You looked like a princess then. I was hoping you’d have a kinship.” 

“You’re insane,” Iceland hissed. He decided instead to focus on the pork Denmark made, having little memory of eating the past day.

It didn’t matter anyway, whatever they chose. Everything just seemed to make him angry. He was angry that the other Nordics were at his house. He was angry they were cooking for him and worrying for him. He was angry he couldn’t take care of himself properly. He was angry he ruined one of his favorite sweaters because he couldn’t risk Finland seeing his arms for ten minutes. He was angry he was letting everybody down.

Before he knew it they’d settled on a movie, something from Germany he wasn’t paying much attention to, and everyone was joined on the couch together...just eating and enjoying each other’s company. Iceland allowed himself a moment to briefly forget everything and turn his mind off. Norway was stroking his drying hair like always, they were all sharing weighted blankets to fight the natural chill in his house, and for once he just wasn’t alone. No one was expecting anything of him and he didn’t have to let anyone down. 

He didn’t even have to ask.

So by the time they left, he knew it’d be a while before they visited again.

\--

He was going mad. The days were beginning to slow and he’d lost all motivation to leave his bed outside of necessity. He’d begun listing reasons each day as to why he should get up as a last-ditch effort just in case it’d make a difference.

“I need to feed Mr.Puffin. I have more calls to make. They need me at Reykjavik in four hours.”

Necessities.

Iceland groaned and rolled into his pillow. The urge was beginning to build up now, an urge he’d been neglecting the past two days for reasons he couldn’t justify to himself.

He began listing reasons why it wasn’t worth it.

“Someone might see them. I could ruin Dan’s gift. It’s not productive.”

He wore long sleeves anyway, he always made sure to clean the dagger afterwards, and nothing he did was any productive nowadays. 

Poor excuses. 

Defeated, he sat up and located the dagger neatly tucked away in it’s chest, familiar with the exact spot and the quickest method to finger it open without looking. He rested his arm on his knee and sighed to himself before slicing open his once spotless skin once more. The scars from his last time had mostly healed, having not been coaxed as much as usual. 

This made him crave impact. How had he gone so easy on himself? He aggressively jerked his hand down, letting blood stream down his arm like a broken dam. And again. And again. He grunted in pain. He persisted. Until he couldn’t tell where he was cutting anymore and if he’d cut through open wounds multiple times. His once white skin now red. His once spotless skin.

Now he had to get up. He had to clean the dagger and he had to clean off his own blood and he still had to feed Mr.Puffin despite everything.

He’d found a new necessity.

\--

How'd he been so careless this time? He was doing so well. Nobody had to know. It was his escape, his little secret. Now everything was ruined.

"When did you get a cat, lillebror?"

They were at a meeting, the only time anyone really saw Ice nowadays, and maybe he wasn't paying enough attention to how much his sleeves lifted when he slouched in his seat. 

Norway had noticed before he even realized something was wrong.

"Cat? Where'd you get that from?"

"Hm. Those cuts on your arm. They look like cat scratches. Did you visit Greece with Turkey lately?"

He reached for Iceland's hand, but quickly was jerked back by unexpected hostility.

"Don't touch me! I-It's just from Mr.Puffin, no big deal."

Norway's careless expression suddenly tightened. 

"Mr.Puffin wouldn't scratch you. He doesn't even scratch Dan."

They were in their own sidebar, but Norway's sudden shift in tone attracted the attention of the other Nordics. 

"It wasn't on purpose, he… just… jumped off my arm in a weird way. Why are you making this such a big deal?" He could feel his heart beating in his throat. Norway needed to let this go right now.

Norway stood up, letting out a breath of a laugh. "Hmm. Lillebror forgot a very important thing about carrying puffins, didn't he? Excuse us, I need to show Ice something outside."

Again Norway reached for Iceland's hand, and confused by the change in direction, Ice let himself be guided out of the room into the bathrooms. 

"Norway, I know more about puffins than you do-"

"Let me see your arm, Ice." 

"Wha- No! Why are you being so weird like this? It's not cool." 

Ignoring this objection, Norway tightened his grip on Iceland's hand and pulled it up, slowly rolling down his sleeves. Iceland choked and turned away, fighting the tears beginning to sting his eyes.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was his escape, his little secret.

Now everything was ruined.

His older brother traced his fingers delicately down his arm, allowing it to to hover over every bump and groove on his once spotless skin.

"...I told you I didn't want you to look."

"These look fresh."

They were from that morning.

"Does it matter?"

"Implying you think it doesn't."

Norway rolled up his sleeves again, refusing to let go of his hand. Iceland could feel him squeezing it tighter than before. 

"You're in a bad place right now… This scares me. I don't want to lose you to whatever it is you're fighting…"

A thick whine escaped Iceland's throat involuntarily. He felt so weak right now. He's screwed up everything. Norway was upset and worried and it was his fault.

"I don't think you're taking care of yourself. I've noticed you've been off lately. Fin even said you wouldn't take off your sweater when he cut your hair… I sort of wondered about that." 

It was silly. It was materialistic. It was so poorly timed. But remembering how he'd ruined one of his nicer sweaters just to keep everything a secret and for nothing, how no amount of lint rollers seemed to work on the fuzzy material to get out all the loose hairs, that's what pushed him to finally cry. 

He dropped to his knees, Norway still gripping his hand in fear, and sobbed harder than he'd ever had memory of before. His head was beginning to ache from the strain of it all. But all he could do was cry and sniff and break down.

He'd ruined his sweater. He'd ruined his secret. He'd ruined the comforting relationship he had with his brother probably. It was all crashing down at once.

And in his head: 

"You'd be better off dead."

It was hard to tell what was going on, his eyes were squeezed shut and his vision was beginning to blacken from the strain, but suddenly he could feel those safe, comforting arms around him, hugging him once more and rubbing gentle circles into the small of his back. Iceland threw his arms over the familiar shoulders desperately. 

"I want you to know how important you are to me… I won't let anything hurt you now. It's just us. Everything will be okay." 

Words that were needed, but only made Iceland cry harder. 

It was a gift how patient Norway was. It must've been hours that passed in that space between the two of them. At some point he could hear the bathroom door open and a quick exchange between Norway and Finland, but after that it was just them two again without anyone to separate them or expect anything of them.

Iceland wished he could've stayed there forever. 

If only he could've. 

Maybe he'd gotten a little too comfortable in that position, because he found himself waking up in a completely new location at the middle of the night. A bedroom, minimalist-designed and having a vague sense of familiarity Ice couldn't quite place. 

Norway's guest bedroom.

Immediately everything came back to him at once and he let out a frustrated groan. He fell asleep after crying like that? No wonder they treated him like a child. How embarrassing. 

He got up and made his way to Norway's bedroom, knocking on it in hopes of receiving an explanation and maybe a ride back. Depending on how he got here, anyway. There was no response but instead he could hear the sound of a lamp being pulled in the den. Ice redirected his focus and followed the sound to yell at whoever had made it.

"When did I get here? You can't just kidnap people like that. Take me home."

Norway was perched at the corner of his sofa, giving his brother a rather bored expression as he poured himself a mug of coffee.

"I see your spirits have raised significantly... Want s'me?" 

"God, is there a time of day you don't drink coffee? A-and I told you I want to go home."

Norway sighed to himself. "'Fraid I can't help you with that. We decided it would be best for you to live with s'me company for a while… I didn't tell the others anything they didn't need to know. We just don't think you should have to go through this alone." 

Iceland honestly didn't know how to feel. He didn't want to be some problematic case to be babysat, but he also knew deep down he could use the company. But this all was happening so fast and he didn't even get a say in it…

"This isn't fair! Don't you think this is a little much? What about all my shit- O-or my job, for that matter?"

"Hm. You worry too much. I scheduled a meeting with your boss t'morrow to discuss sharing duties with mine for a little while. And anythin' you need, just ask."

How could he be this joyful all the time? How could he be so nonchalant? How could he make all these decisions without him??

"This is ridiculous. I NEED you to take me home!”

His brother paused, seemingly in thought. “Sit down with me, Ice.” Norway patted the seat on the sofa next to himself softly.

  
  
Iceland hesitated, frustrated tears stinging his eyes once more, before succumbing to the command of his captor. He sunk into the couch solemnly and stared into his lap, avoiding Norway’s dead glare.

“What?”

  
  
“Y’now, I understand where you are right now. You want to seek help but you feel as if we don’t know what you’re going through. We’ve all been there, though… It’s more common than y’think.”

  
  
Iceland stayed silent, burning a hole into his lap with his gaze. Norway was just saying this to make him feel better. As if someone as energetic as Denmark had bad days where he couldn’t even make it out of bed. As if someone as put-together as Sweden could struggle finding a reason to shower. As if someone as joyful as Finland could force that smile.

As if his brother ever find hurt in the company of his own blood.

“But we got through it. We’re still going through it, even. Being a nation is misery, I’m sure by now you can tell. Sometimes y’wonder when you’ll finally be let off, if you’ll ever be allowed to rest.”

Ice nodded, still feeling rather unconvinced. But he understood what Norway was saying.

“Some days you’ll wake up and find you’re at war, and now you’ve got to slaughter the people of your family just to stay alive. Is it ever really worth it? Thousands of souls to defend a nation that would probably be better off under your brother’s care…”

“But there’s a reason we push on. Even if some days we wonder how much it’s worth it. Even if some days we feel undeserving of being given the time of day.”

  
  
Norway paused to take a sip of his coffee, Iceland looking at him expectantly. Despite the depressing topic he was lecturing about he still carried himself rather unenthused. Even in heartfelt discussions Nor could be frustrating…

“Well? What’s the reason?”

“We carry on because we want to show younger nations like you it’s possible to survive. Life don’t get easier, it just gets predictable. If there’s ever another war to fight off or an invasion to tackle, we’ll give it everything we’ve got because we know you’re waiting to hear that we survived. Iceland doesn’t deal with too many hardships, not to say you’ve never gone through anything, so we want to give you hope that you can make it. Understand?’

Iceland stayed silent. That was somehow a lot heavier than he’d expected. He didn’t know how to respond.

“And you understand that it hurts me to see I’m not doing enough, to see that even though we all push on, you still want to give up? I know you can’t help it… but that’s why I want to do everything I can to be there for you. Otherwise I’ve failed as your big brother and as a nation.”

“You haven’t failed at anything…” Iceland muttered weakly. His tone felt pathetic, but it hurt to know he disappointed his brother. “I… Actually really liked it when you guys would visit. I just felt so alone.... If me staying here means I can stay by you longer, I’m okay with that.” He leaned into Norway’s side, and on impact Nor began to stroke his hair gently.

It felt surprisingly good to be honest with Norway, even if he’d hate himself for it later. But he was tired of the mental battles and right now getting his true feelings off his chest was the most self-care he’d experienced in a while.

“Mmm… I’m glad to hear that.” But almost as quickly as it’d begun, Nor sat up, leaving Iceland disappointed with the lack of relaxing grooming. “I’m gonna get you somethin’ to eat, ya look like you could use it.”

“Wha… there’s no way it’s an appropriate time for that,” Ice huffed to himself, but with no intention of protesting. He had lost a lot of weight the past few months, and no doubt the others were secretly concerned about it. He’d allow himself this.

Norway returned with a plate of toast, 2 slices topped with brunost and jam, along with a glass of milk. “I’ll get you somethin’ proper tomorrow, but it is rather late,” he excused.

“It’s fine,” the younger muttered, thankful his brother didn’t cut off the crusts like he’d used to. In this pandering environment, it was nice to see Norway treating him somewhat as an adult. Being babied felt a little good, but it would only grow irritating after some time.

He’d accepted a slice and ate it quietly, Norway now re-positioned to pet his hair again. If he weren’t actively eating, Iceland could’ve fallen asleep again right then and there. This was good. No worries, no hurt, just being there for each other. 

Iceland wondered what Norway got from this, if he would’ve panicked had Iceland not eaten. Now aware of this side of his brother, Iceland made a mental note to pay more attention to his subtle reactions to things… even if Norway was hard to read.

The two stayed like this until Iceland had finished his food (and insisted on putting away the dishes himself), before Norway had dragged him back to the guest bedroom to get some proper rest. When they reached the door, Iceland stopped cold.

“C’mon, you need to sleep.”

“Ah… I… just…” Ice’s face grew hot. Did he have to say it? 

“I really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

If this made Norway any bit happy, he didn’t let it show. He simply hummed and directed Ice into his own room, lending him pajamas to get changed in.

By the time Iceland had done so, Norway was already asleep, passed out right above the covers.

Familiar words rang through Ice’s head, just not the same ones as usual.

“Life don’t get easier, it just gets predictable.”

He smiled to himself, climbing into bed next to his brother. Ice didn’t get much sleep that night, instead choosing to pet Norway’s hair as he liked to do to him. 

At least they had each other.

**Author's Note:**

> If this story hit just a little too close to you it's okay to seek help! Even online there will always be someone willing to listen and help you through this! I'm doing a lot better compared to when I wrote this and I hope soon you too will get better. <3
> 
> Also apologies if there's a noticeable swap in writing style. I decided to pick up this story again right when Iceland woke up.


End file.
